


you’re the best part

by misskraken



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskraken/pseuds/misskraken
Summary: Disentangling himself from M’Baku’s arms, T’Challa thinks, ought to qualify as a kind of extreme sport.





	you’re the best part

**Author's Note:**

> Idek what this is y’all I just like seeing them all peaceful and in love

Disentangling himself from M’Baku’s arms, T’Challa thinks, ought to qualify as a kind of extreme sport.

M’Baku’s octopus-like penchant for wrapping himself around T’Challa as he sleeps made itself known shortly after they became lovers, and has only increased since their wedding the previous summer. It is not unusual for T’Challa to awaken with M’Baku bear-hugging T’Challa to his massive chest, his arms securing him in a vise-like grip, their legs practically braided together beneath the sheets. Of course, there are worse things to wake up to than an affectionate smothering from one’s husband.

Except for when T’Challa needs to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Like now, for instance.

It is half past midnight, and T’Challa has been trying to come up with a way to extricate himself without waking M’Baku for the past twenty minutes. M’Baku is currently spooning T’Challa with his left leg slung over T’Challa’s hip, his expansive torso warming T’Challa’s back better than any heated blanket. The thick bicep of his left arm is pillowed beneath T’Challa’s head, and his right hand rests over T’Challa’s heart, the fingers opening and closing as he dreams.

T’Challa holds his breath and slowly, without using any of his Panther strength, attempts to shift away slightly.

M’Baku only grunts in his sleep and holds T’Challa tighter, his lips worrying at the sensitive spot behind T’Challa’s ear.

T’Challa laughs silently and begins to form a new plan.

Slowly but surely, with no little amount of contortion, T’Challa manages to wriggle free of M’Baku’s arms. His bladder feels as if it is about to burst, but he still manages to tuck the blankets and furs over M’Baku’s shoulders and kiss his forehead before sprinting off to the bathroom.

When T’Challa re-emerges, he is struck by the biting chill in the room. While all Jabari houses are skillfully insulated against the cold mountain air, most do not have a heating system. Never bothered by a little chill, M’Baku’s quarters are heated only by a cavernous stone fireplace, the embers of which glow a dim, bloody red. 

Perhaps the slight cold would not bother T’Challa if he were still wearing the thermal sleepwear he put on before climbing into bed only hours before. Unfortunately, M’Baku had other plans, and T’Challa’s shirt still remains unceremoniously crumpled on the floor where M’Baku threw it after using it to wipe his semen from T’Challa’s lower back.

T’Challa smiles to himself at the memory before heading over to the fireplace.

He carefully places a few small logs onto the bed of embers and stokes it gently. The dry wood crackles as it catches fire, and soon a healthy garland of flame blooms before T’Challa’s eyes. He sighs and holds his hands out to it, relishing the heat.

It is only then that realizes M’Baku has stopped snoring. When he turns around, the breath catches in his throat.

M’Baku is staring at T’Challa, his chin propped in his hand. In the tangerine light of the fire, T’Chala can see the soft smile on M’Baku’s mouth, and the love in his eyes makes T’Challa feel as if his heart might burst. For the past two years he has done his best to be a good man as well as a good king, but so often he feels as if he is not doing nearly enough. He feels that he will never be worthy of M’Baku, this beautiful, impossible man who has saved his life and his kingdom not once but twice. 

But when M’Baku looks at him like this, he feels as if he is closer than he thinks he is

“What?” T’Challa asks, a sheepish laugh escaping him.

M’Baku raises his eyebrows.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” M’Baku says, and the soft, sleepy timbre of his voice does strange things to T’Challa’s chest. “I wasn’t aware that I am not allowed to look at you.”

T’Challa sits back on his heels and grins.

“After that little trick you did with your tongue earlier this evening,” T’Challa says with a wink, “you are allowed to do whatever you like with me.”

M’Baku laughs and pulls back the covers.

“Then come back to bed, my love,” M’Baku says. “I’ve kept your place warm for you.”

T’Challa does not have to be told twice.

He crawls beneath the covers, lying on his back as M’Baku settles his bulk over him. He loves lying underneath him like this, loves feeling M’Baku’s weight on every part of him, though he knows he could lift him off with one hand if he wanted. T’Challa lifts his hands and runs them across the swathes of muscle in M’Baku’s shoulders, across the expanse of his arms. He caresses M’Baku’s skin not with the frenzied passion of their previous lovemaking, but with slow, reverent intention, the way one glides their fingertips across the lines of a beloved poem they cannot wait to read again.

M’Baku kisses the bridge of T’Challa’s nose.

“Warm enough?” he murmurs.

T’Challa traces the curve of M’Baku’s mouth before resting the pad of his thumb against the center of his lower lip, the part he had sunk his teeth into only hours earlier. Bast, how he loves this mouth, as quick to smile as it is to frown.

“With you?” T’Challa says. “Always.”

M’Baku kisses T’Challa then, and T’Challa closes his eyes, his hands cradling the sides of M’Baku’s face. He could stay like this forever, he thinks, but all too soon M’Baku breaks the kiss.

“Good,” he says, pressing his lips to T’Challa’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

With that, M’Baku nestles his head against the base of T’Challa’s neck, and T’Challa strokes the back of M’Baku’s neck until his breathing slows.

Only then does T’Challa allow himself to close his eyes.


End file.
